A/N: I posted this a long time ago on LJ but I kind of forgot to post it here... Oh well, it's here now! This is set back in S1, during the episode "Angel".

Made for fun, not profit. Joss (et al) owns Buffy and our souls.


He has her wrists so bound in his hands that she can feel his nails dig until the blood starts to trickle out. It's how it used to be, back when, and it excites her. He is Angel now, just Angel, but he is still an animal inside, and she knows it more than anyone. He is the beast in this moment, boiling and growling, gripping and hurting her so much that the pain he gives her makes her remember when he was hers.

Do you know what the saddest thing in the world is?

"What do you want?"

"I want it finished," he tells her through teeth clenched so tight they might snap at the roots.

She smiles mirth at him, wrapping her tongue around her bottom teeth and leaning in close to him. His pain hurts so good. She takes his mouth in hers, just for a second, and loves it when he fights back.

Angel recoils, throws his head back and away from hers, eyes flashing angrily.

He doesn't say anything because it isn't necessary, not after so long, and instead he thinks quickly. Half-thoughts, fuelled by the rise of disgust, mostly at feeling that he wants her. It helps that he knows he doesn't have much time before he must face the Slayer, and his plan comes to form.

Angel's fingers still on Darla's wrists, he pushes forward, forcing her head back into the wall before crashing his lips down on hers. It's a rush, a sudden surge, and he feels the blood rise within him.

His hands break their hold on Darla's, her blood at the tips of his fingers and the red of it trails along in broken lines down her blue uniform as he travels his hands toward her waist, the blood hardly visible but there all the same.

Darla laughs inside. There's her boy.

Knowing so well what to do with her, Angel pushes his hands down hard on her hips, grinding his palms against them while his lips tease hers, pulling away before touching her top lip, then the bottom one.

He's inside of her within seconds, because it has to be quick, but this has to work. Darla threads her hands over his head and through his hair, pulling at it roughly, if only to make the beast growl a little.

With every quick thrust, Angel looks further away from her. Darla keeps her eyes on Angel's face, waiting for the change. It doesn't come.

It isn't like it was before, and Darla hates herself for thinking that it would be. More than anything, though, she hates that it's a lie.

To love someone who used to love you.

Darla sinks into the shudders that befall her, her hate ripening within herself every second longer he stays inside.

He pulls away presently once it's over, and quickly leaves, muttering behind him some parting words that might have been, "I'll finish it."

Palms flat against the wall behind her, Darla stands still and tries to calm the boiling blood. He is Angel now, just Angel, and he's not the same. He would choose a vampire Slayer over his old lover, and his ploy soon becomes Darla's weapon; Angel thinks he's played her, filling her with the poisoned hope that he's gone off to kill the Slayer, while Darla knows she will have to do that herself.

And then maybe she'll just have to kill Angel.